making something out of nothing

growing up you learn, sometimes it is really painful to love people

You know there’s no way to stop caring if no one loves you; you can’t switch your heart on and off like a tap because no matter what the flood still comes and even if you could, even if you had a way to stem the leak and plug the holes you wouldn’t want to, you couldn’t bear it because you can’t-won’t cut yourself off: there’s no putting out this fire. There is no opt-out register for this whole thing; you were doomed from the start with your dripping heart because you were meant to be a tragedy. It’s at the cost of feeling your ribs buckle every time someone looks you in the eyes and the fact is that you don’t know where the f**k this happy ending that everyone’s promising is coming from, even with blinkers off and shutters open you can’t see for the miles of lonely light. Andrew sings that fires make storm clouds and the flowers pick their heads up again but sitting on the precipice watching your forests burn, you don’t even believe him at all.

The sun is cresting a horizon laced with banners of smoke and at least your wastelands are golden plated. The fires surge but when they wither your blood will have this place in bloom again, so let it all burn down: you're not afraid. Your heart is a tap that leaks. Your wells are running dry but you’re not over yet.

Reviews

[TLK]

Your liquid metaphor for love is very apt -- 'flood', 'stem', 'plug', 'leak'. There is a basic biological kinship in terms of the plumbing of the heart, too, which heightens the sensation of embolistic danger. (Embolistic isn't a word! Look at me go!).

The sudden switch to a fire is dramatic and amusing. There is a pleasing opposition there.

"...you were meant to be a tragedy" is a line dripping with heartfelt malice.


Overall, this is just wrought enough (not overwrought), and is laced through with a mesh of specifics to ground this very universal message with the sense of a human narrator. It provokes both sympathy and empathy.